Hector continued his walk downtown. Despite the crowds of persons who
thronged the sidewalks, he did not anticipate meeting anyone else that
he knew. But he was destined to another surprise. On the corner of
Murray Street he saw two persons advancing toward him, the last,
perhaps, that he expected to see. Not to keep the reader in suspense, it
was Allan Roscoe and his son, Guy.
Guy was the first to recognize Hector. Of course, he, too, was
surprised.
“Why, there’s Hector!” he exclaimed, directing his father’s attention to
our hero.
Allan Roscoe looked up quickly. It is hard to tell whether he felt glad
or the reverse at this meeting with the boy whom he called his ward.
An instant later Hector recognized Guy and his father.
“How do you do, Mr. Roscoe?” he said, politely.
“Very well. When did you reach New York?”
“On Saturday.”
It should have been explained that Hector had spent Sunday quietly with
Mr. Ross and Walter, and that this was Monday.
“Ahem! I was very much surprised at your leaving the institute,” said
Mr. Roscoe.
“I explained to you in my letter why I proposed to leave it,” Hector
answered, coldly.
“I did not think your reason sufficient.”
“As Mr. Smith saw fit to bring a base charge against me, and persisted
in it, even after he must have been convinced that his nephew was
guilty, I was unwilling to remain under his charge any longer.”
“The circumstances were against you,” said Mr. Roscoe.
“You might have known me better than that, Mr. Roscoe,” said Hector,
proudly. “Yet you condemned me unheard.”
“Of course, I am very glad that the charge is unfounded,” said Mr.
Roscoe, awkwardly.
“Where there is smoke there is generally fire,” said Guy, spitefully.
“I understand you, Guy,” said Hector, half turning to look at the boy
who had usurped his place. “I hope you won’t think it impolite if I say
that I care nothing whatever for your opinion.”
“You put on as many airs as ever,” sneered Guy. “I should think you
would be a little more humble in your changed position.”
“I have not changed, even if my position has,” answered Hector. “Money
is nothing to be proud of.”
“I apprehend that the world judges differently,” said Allan Roscoe.
“Since you have taken your destiny into your own hands, you will excuse
me for asking how you intend to earn your living?”
“I hope to get a mercantile position,” answered Hector.
“Take my advice,” said Guy, with a derisive smile, “and buy yourself a
blacking box and brush. I am told bootblacks make a good deal of money.”
“Hush, Guy!” said his father. “Do not insult Hector.”
But Hector concerned himself but little with any slight received from
Guy Roscoe. His words, however, recalled his thoughts to the boy he had
so recently met, Larry Deane, and he resolved to see if he could not
help him by an appeal to Allan Roscoe.
“Mr. Roscoe,” said he, quickly, “I nearly forgot something I want very
much to say to you.”
“What is it?” asked his guardian, suspiciously. It occurred to him that
Hector wished to borrow some money, and he was considering how little he
could decently give him.
“I hear you have discharged Reuben Deane from his position?”
“How did you hear it?”
“From his son, Larry.”
“Where did you see Larry?” asked Allan, in some curiosity.
“He has been driven to take up that employment which Guy so kindly
recommended to me.”
“Larry Deane a bootblack! That’s a good one!” exclaimed Guy, with
evident relish.
“I don’t think so,” said Hector. “The poor boy is picking a poor
living, and sending home what he can to his father, who cannot get new
employment. Mr. Roscoe, why did you discharge him?”
“I can answer that question, though it’s none of your business all
the same,” volunteered Guy. “The boy Larry was impudent to me, and his
father took his part.”
“Mr. Roscoe,” said Hector, “Reuben Deane was in my father’s employ
before I was born. Larry and I used to play together when we were little
boys, and since when we were older.”
“A bootblack is a nice playmate,” said Guy, with his usual sneer.
“He was not a bootblack then,” retorted Hector, “nor would he be now but
for your mean spite. Mr. Roscoe, as I happen to know, my father always
valued the services of Reuben Deane, and I ask, in his name, that you
give him back his place.”
“My brother may have been deceived in him,” said Allan Roscoe, coldly,
emphasizing the first two words, in order to remind Hector that he was
no longer to consider him as his father; “but I cannot promise to adopt
all his views and protege’s. I have displaced Deane and substituted for
him a gardener with whom I am better pleased.”
“Have you no sympathy for the poverty and distress of a man who has
served our family faithfully for so many years?” asked Hector, half
indignantly.
“My father is competent to manage his own affairs,” said Guy,
offensively.
“You don’t appear to think so, or you would not answer for him,”
retorted Hector.
“Boys, I must request you to desist from this bickering,” said Allan
Roscoe. “I am sorry, Hector, that I cannot comply with your request. By
the way, you did not tell me where you were staying.”
“With a gentleman on Forty-second Street.”
“What is his name?”
“Andrew Ross.”
“Not the eminent merchant of that name?” asked Allan Roscoe, in
surprise.
“Yes, I believe so.”
“He is worth a million.”
“I supposed he was rich. He lives in an elegant house.”
“Where did you get acquainted with him, Hector?”
“At Saratoga, a year and a half ago.”
“Did you beg him to take you in?” asked Guy, unpleasantly.
Hector quietly ignored the question.
“Walter Boss and I have been very intimate, and I was invited to pay him
a visit.”
“Does he know that you are a poor boy?” asked Guy.
“I have communicated to Mr. Ross what your father told me,” answered
Hector, coldly. “He is a real friend, and it made no difference in his
treatment of me. I hope to get a situation through his influence.”
“You are lucky to have such a man for a friend,” said Allan Roscoe, who
would himself have liked to become acquainted with a man whose social
position was so high. “I hope you will not misrepresent me to him.
Should any opportunity occur, I will try to procure you employment.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Hector, but his tone lacked heartiness. He saw
that his being a visitor to Mr. Ross and his son had made a difference
in his favor. Guy, too, began to think he might be a little more
gracious. He, like his father, liked to associate with boys of high
social position, and he would have liked to be introduced to Walter
Ross.
“What is your number?” he asked of Hector, “I don’t know but I’ll call
and see you some time. Is Walter Ross generally at home?”
“Don’t put yourself to any inconvenience to call,” said Hector,
significantly. “Walter and I are generally away in the afternoon.”
“Oh, I don’t care to call upon you,” said Guy, annoyed. “I can have all
the company I want.”
“I won’t detain you any longer, Mr. Roscoe,” said Hector, realizing that
the conversation had occupied considerable time. “Good-morning.”
“That boy is as proud as ever,” said Guy, after Hector had left them.
“He doesn’t seem to realize that he has lost his money.”
“He has not had time to realize it yet. It won’t be long before he will
understand the difference it makes.”
“I am glad he isn’t my cousin,” continued Guy. “I dislike him more than
any boy I know.”
Allan Roscoe looked thoughtful.
“I fear that boy will give me trouble yet,” he said to himself. “He
evidently suspects that something is wrong.”